I thoroughly believe that at this very moment I
get none of my chief pleasures except froj what is
unsullied. The love of beauty exclud's evil. A
moral life is simply a pure conscience: a
physical, mental and ethical source of pleasure.
At the sane time it i3 an inhuman life to lad.
It is a form cf narrowness so far as ccnparnionship
is concerned. O.e must make concess'ioa-s to
others; but thero .'.:3 nver a necessit, of smutch-
Ing inner purity.

He concludes this entry; first, by accounting an forcedd

separation between inner integrity and an active life of the

worl. -d:

The only practical life of :-i world, ?.s a mn cf
the world, not as a University professor a
Retired Parimr or Citizen, a Phi.anthropic a
preacher, a Poet or thne hi, i-; as a b..: liing
mnerchant, a m:nr'y-making l',ucr, so.dir, a
politician is to bj if u.-'4',,jdab1 -. a -ieudo-
villain in the derma, a (ecc.nt person i:. private
life, We :u.t c0 o-n, o we nu:t useo ooth and
nail, iL is che lo; -." n:ure "The survival of
th.: fittest"; provi
t:'i.:o self-rtespect, in'.-:rit.y and fairness,

The strength of the church groUs less and loss
until the church stands for littlEc .or-z han
propriety. . I ought to snj tnna. it is a
ha:blt of mind with me to be thjni.ing of some
substitute for religion. I dcn't neccessariLy
moean some substitute for the church, because no
one believes in i1je church as an instj.iation
more than I do. My trouble, and the trouble of
a great many people. is the loss of b.lirf in
the sort of God in i'hom we wore all brought up
to believe. (L, 348)

The Christian myth remained for Stevens throughout his .ifo

primarily a point of ccnitrast to his ovrn spiritual ucs:i.tion.

Stevens' response at this time to the spirit inr

nature is crucial for our investigation of his fresh spirit-

ual. His major poetry devc'ecpcd cut of h.i3 rejection o'

this early desire to romanticize nature, .Itis maCure aceom-

plishmont resulted from his attempt to discover or creat-e E.

abode of the spirit that was both credible and equivalentc. to

the God of the church of his youth and the God of nas.ure of

:hir early manhood. More and more his focus came to co'.itr

on the i.ystory of hunan perc(:oion and on tbo necesily. of

cleansing man's sight. At uhis stage, during his tw':ntie s,

hi's sen:n of Lthh sacred ..a-'rgely remained associated ruith tIle

s:il'i t r6venl.::d in nature and in Die books. Only gradually

did i!C s concern for accurate speech combine with his idea of

perception to unite at last in a recognition of poetry as a

'.oe.ns of r-:demnption" (lO, 160).

During these pre-marriage days, Stevens repeatedly

responded in his Journal with fervor to the divine spirit

which he felt within and beyond nature. The following

descript ion testified not only Lo the division between

Stevens' sense of thiis mysterious ; spirit and his reaction to

the modern city, but also to the demands of his own irr.agi-

nation, which here enforces itself riumentarily on the

inmcdiate world, the park in the evening:

The park was deserted yet I fclt royal in, my ctrpty
palace. A dozen cr more stars were .3ii.ning.
Leaving thi tower and parapets I uwnderecd about in
a maze of paths somo of which led to tr. invis. .b"l.
cave. By this timo it was dark and i stuilmbled
about over little bridges that: cr:'.ojed ndcr my
step, up hills, and througli t.rsez.. '.i' o5u. hooted.
I stopped and suddenly felt thel .:',;;.:;r.rio- spir it
of rature--a very nyster.iour rsir.t.: I thought
never to Ihavo rr.at oih aFain. I b:..;-;rLd i.n tFhe
air and shook ofl the letha2Gy t.. '-:.d cV;tr:.Llzd
nme. jur so long a tirao, hut m: r'. rc..-owi stop.pca
ihc. t.n- a : th- spiriit slipped a:.Zv :..'.: ..- me
looking ij. h amnuserienrit at the ,-I: -'"'' u7n..ys-
terious and not at all spirit tual "r- ::'. ana apart-
inunt houses that w;ore lined up like -.i,-r;nt
factories orn the West side of the PaT.i-. I crossed
tc EiRhth-ave.., and in a short time rebl.lred to
the house. (L, 50)

This description of the park reads like a madi'ivel roimarce

with ts woods End grottoes. FCr our vi:ow of Stot'h.en, the

passage S3rvc3 especially to underscore the pr:bl!.cr.. of a

modern romanuicizer of nature T.ho must confront a city world

of 'elegant factories."

Ste..'ens' response to nature at this timeo has in It

both a sensB of the beautiful and of the mysterious' and

3suli,-, bul; either way it is usually presented with a back-

grl..und of the, profane and ugly, everyday..world. Note hae

froiL.;;;J.wi response to the sacred arrival of nature's springg

set in sharp contrast to his rovul:ion to the profane city

world of man:

Extraordinarily brilliant day. A day for
violet and vermilion, for yellow and whijte---and
everything of silk. Au contralre, people lcoked
like the- ver devil. Hen whodi ocen taking a drop
of' the Astor HOUSe Monongahela now and then
through the winter, or else had been calling in at
Proctor's for an olive or a fishball before start-
ing up town-, looked like blotchy, bloodless, yes,
end bloated--toads; and many a good, hottest womrian
h.d a snout like a swan. And this on a day when
the rainbo;is danced in ;ho basin in Unicn Squicre!
Spring is something of a Circo, after .ll. It
takos a lot of good blood to show on a day like
this. Everybody's clothes looked intolerably old
and bcEg. arly. The streets were vile with dust.
Persone.lly, I felt quite up to the mark; yesterday,
I walked a score of miles sloughing off a pound at
every mile (it seemed). There were any number of
ble birds q.field--even the horizons, a:'ter a
tim-e, seemed like blue .wings flitting down tne
round cides of the world.

La.tcr in the ssinie entry, after seeing a I!man from a rom.tantic

distance, he can describe him as "a wily zhad--fi'her feedi m;

excels:ior to his goats." At this stage in his development,

the external profane becomes sacred for Steventi largely tu

the extent that. it becomes the "wholly other, a :.'r.!c

beyond th e present ugly realities of tim-e and spaces. He

concluded this entry': "No doubt, if it had b-.c-n a bit

nearer sunset, the particular hills I gazed at so long couldd

have bccn very mu'h like the stops to the Thrrns., And

Bl.akkc' angels would have. been there with their 'Holy. Holy,

lut. thoe difficulty that Stuevns incrasirn!ly recog-

nlzed ;- as that the iinail\n rtion, .Ineuue- trc:: in it t.

never-never-land of a nat.are sE;en only in its beauty and

subli.j.i' ty, w;as always. subject to the eneroach ments of the

pr,'fane immediate world and to the strictures of its o.
d~:ire for a r.ore realistic truth. Note the sudden inter-

ruption of the profan,. in the following description:

Arollo & I tripped it through rainy woods
e s t;ray afternoonu. . Spirit seemed cvery-
Jwho r,-.-. :-talking in the infernal forest-. The wet
sid'eo of leave\ glittered like platoc of steel;
Diig rLt-birds made thin noises; tree-frogs seemed
con::piv ring; an owl chilled the clar:rajy silence.
But poohl i discovered oSg-.-hel.ls--surc sign of
a an &: his wife & a child or two, lo.afing jr my
terilr-.e. How fine, though, was the iiyste.r:y of
overy;-shing except the damn egg-chells! (L, 61-62'

I dropped into St. John's ch:.pol .an hour before
the sor-.-coe and sat in the las t ew andi looked
aroiud, It ha:ipens that la:ti niJ.gt ar; the
Library I read a -. fu of Jesus cu I was

in'o.'re:;te, tc see what symbols or tlha't :.ifo
appeared .in the chapel. I thin]h thero -ere none
ar, all excoptinc- the go]ld crcss ou ttir. alt'r.
'.ioen you compare that poverty with the iosalth of
symboJl., of remscrFbrances, that. w;.- o created and
revered in times past, you e.pproniato hoe chRngeu
that has come over the church. The church should.
be more ;ban a moral institution, if ic is to
have the influence that it should have. The
ipi.co, the gloom, the quiet mystify and entrance
the spirit. But that is not enough. --And one
turns from this chapel to thoso built by me.n w.ho
felt the wonder of the life and doat. of Jaeus--
tenmplen full of sacred iimagos, Lull of the air o'
love cand .oliness-.-trbernacles hallowed by worsah.ip
that sprang from the noble depths of men fami-liar
with -ethseriane, familiar with Jerusale.m.

Apparently. struck mostly by the actual life of Chri st,

:Steven:, comments: "1 do wonder that the hl-urch is so

largely a relic, T.t vitality depended on its association

with Palestine, so to speak." Already here in embryo

:;ueverLs was expressir:n primary ele.mcntz of his lat:r spir.i-

ual, in which eventually the he .oa-n God of im'.gination w.'s to

stand before the ultimate mystery of life itself. He goes

on :

Reading tne life of J.esus, toou makes one distin-
guisli tli,- separate idea of God. Before co-d.:y I
do not .hink I have ever realized tha; God was
distinct from Jesus. It enlarges the matter
alL-.ost beyond. com!.prchensionn. People doubt cL:-.
existen}cc o' J6sus--at least, they dUubt f.nc..ic.
of ii.-.s l.if, such as, say; the AcIcensircn in-.o
Heave-n after lhi3 death. .tut I do not understand
thalt th-y deny God. I thi'k evleror.l acL'.,:isg that
:n none form' or other. --The r.hou-lnt make.. the
world sw'eeu-,r--even if God be no more T''.han. the
ay:c;ic'ry of Life.

Later in t-he6 :aone let.er., Stevens Ydded to the wonder of

hun .ife and the uLtimatn iny--r the third: .eimber of lii'

trini 'y: fel the overwhelraing noces.sity of

Lhi:1kinir. well, speaking well" I(., 39-i ). Only a; his

desire for poetry becne purely the desire for t,.ccurate

speech, not infused with the longing for a romantic world

dissociated from the immediate one, could Stevens' aest.hetic

become his spirit-ual. Over thirty-five years later this

emDryc.nic awareness of human. wonder .nd ultimate l, y-tecr wed

to accurate speech will bear fru-it in Stevens' monumental

poetic realization of the rock of being:

It is the roc, of sJrummer, the extreme,
A iiiountain luiminous half uay in bloom
ArnO then half waa in tie extremest light
Of sapphires flashing from the central sk ,
As if twelve poinces sat before a king. (375)

Sbevens' desire for accurate speech increases s:; his

attenticn turned front the search for spirit within ant..r- to

the aense of spirit within self. But although this

de.3.piri tuali::.ing of nFturc could enable himl ;o sca the cartb

.lc:;: romantically, it could also leave him i;ithout :~ l sen.s

of spirit at all. Stevens' letters and Jouriial entries from1

his pre-marriag.e days record pL.in and confusion as vwll as

positive growth.

One of his main dilc-Jlras corrinumIed to be his sense

of the ~w.lf between art. and iimre.date life. On July ...

1900. h1e wro'Ue in his. Journal: "Perish all sonnets, .

Sonnets ha-ve their place . but they can al.:,o be found

tr.emc:nddously out of place: in real life ;hoire th]igs are

quicl:, uLiaccountahle, responsive" (L., 42). In its most

txtremio form; ;vtih tension be twoen life and art was for him

the co.nflicr. Vbetwoen scj.,nuncji"1.r Te.cductic.n Lad romantic

34

osu-capo, On Septenber 4, 1902, Stevenrs entered in hia

Journa:.l:

Tc-dnay while thinking over organic laws etc. tbc
idea of the German "Org bni.,sus': crept. into my
thoughts. -and as I was i un.h.ngs on -'r&rikfurLters
& sauerkraut, I 'felt quit'- the philo.soophr.
Wonderfully scientific & cie.r iceC.:--this
orzanism.us one.. Yes: and if i ;wt.'o a material-
Ist I might value it. But only last night I wa-
lanmenting that the fairie-s were things of the
past. Ths organimus is tiruck-.--.give me. the
fairies, the Cloud-OGtherer, the Prince 3f Peece.
the mirror of Virtuoe--and a pleasant road to
think: of them on, and a starry night to be with
then. (L, 60)

The result of conflicts such as these, centering in the

unreality of art and the mroanirngLesrness of co;ii:oonplfce

reality, is at times ciisillusionment arnd despaP',r, Stven'

Journal entry for April 30, 1905, records a scwse of s.i.it-

ual vacuum:

I fool. a loathing (l.arg,,a, & vaguely for things a-,
they are; anid T.hic is the result of a prttly
thorour-h di.iillusiornaent. Y c this is an ordinary
ruood uith me in to',rn in the Snrin, tiimrs. I. say to
myself that thero .1v nothing good in the world
except physical :ell-beingr; nll. tUei rest is
philosophical compromise. Last Sunda3., at home, I
took co..T-nion. It was fru-m the l:r,'n the s:eni-
mental., the diseased, the priggish 9nd the ignorant.
that "Gloria ir; excelsisl-' ceae. Love is console.-
tion, ..iture is consolation, Friondt.hip, Work,
Phantasy are all consoL.ation. (L, 82;

I tho.-u'au, on the t-rain, how utterly we? h-rc for-
saken the Earz.h, in the sense of exclud.ijz. ; *Lt from
our thougbht-.. There are but few 'ho corC;.i.:r .its
physicnar hugeress. its rough enonrity. It is
s3til.l. a disps.i.lace mnonst--rs 'i ty, full of so.'..tud(es a
I'-arrens & uildsc It still dwarfs :: Lerr'ifies &
crI'si"e$ '. heo rivers still roar, the .c:oi'.on i;in
still crash, thi, winds still. shatter. Man i: an
affair of cities. His gardens &. orchards fc f:, ld?
are mlora scrtaC'pirigs. in;.So '.-eh!.. however. .' has
mranntcd to shut out tht: fao, of tie i.ant fror. h.is
-:irido::s. .ubc the giLant is there, noverthcl.css.
und it .i c. prop-er yu.esJ r.ion, wnot} r. or not the

-A

I,;.llipu.:t.ins hav 1 t: 'i.- don. *h-.ro are. his
huge: legs, Afri- & L. : ...mrica, stiJ.!., appar-
ently,. free: and the Jr.t cf h!ir. is o1re,':ty touJl-
and runhandy. Bu.i:, as I say, we d'J :lot t hink of
this. 'Tii'e was a girl on th. train ,sith a face
like the uutncr-side of a moonfisn. Her talk '.'as
of dances & .etin. For her, Sah:ara had no iand;
Brazil, no nud. (I, 73)

Such 1a idea of earth, socn without romantic trappings,

n.aeeed to provide Stevens with a fre.h context within which

)-he could more fully conceive of his o: -r creative spirit. Ir.

a letter advising his future wife r.c joiu. the church, he

went on to observe: "I am not in the least religious. The

sun clears my spirit, if I may say that, a-nd an occasional

sislt of the sea, and thinking of bluo valleys, and the od;r

cof the earth, and many things. Such things maIkc a God o'f a

mn.n; but. a chapel rmakes a man of him. Churchsc are human"

(L, 96). A scnse of the elemental force. of natLure combined

with an awareness of his own, God-like creative capacity

invigorated Stovens' c.oncon with his i.nter!*- .lifo a.s a

perceiving and ox,~rczsing spiritt From here o,., Steven,'

view of thii i:miicnsi ty and rmy.stery of the airth and his vi ew

of the spi-iriual efficacy of the mind of man grew tc.-cteor

side by side.

.'it this same tirm appr:oaiching e.e thj.iy stij.

proesauab.y prior to thu writ.;-:; of his first major poetry,

,'St;c;.ni s boc, r. to t.ry to express to Elie a fe.sh ccO-ceptic.

of the ]j. uon l mind along wi tTh a new l).ief in mian's nobility.

Tt io music tb.szc niwa.kens him to the arch-typal depth of

)rental" re s.ponss s:

What is tbhe mysterious effect of rausic, the vague
eff-'ict we feel. when we hoar music, without ever
defining it? . It is considered that music,
stir-.ing something within us, stirs the !Memory. I
do noT ,'ean r our personal Memory--the memory of our
twenty years and more--but our inherited Memory,
the .Mem ory we have derived from those who lived
before us in our owTn race, and in other races,
illimitable, in which we resume the whole past
life of *che world, all the emotions, passions,
experience:~ of the millions and millions of men
and women now dead, whose lives have inse nsibli
passed into our own, and compose Them. --It is a
MHemory deep in the mind, without images, so vague
tha' only tico vegueness of Music, touching it
subtly: vaguely awakens, until

'it remembers its august abodes,
sn-d murnurs as the ocean murmurs there.'

This pssociratjon of the racial unconscious wi.rh r-sic, hos..:.

to e-c.lin the provalence of musical. effects iij Steve:.s'

poct:,'y. Elizabeth Drew relates T. S. Eliot's concern with

tbc "auditory imagination" to the !"mythical method of gra.p-

ing experience."5 For Stevens, music can c0.ll fox-th the

archaic self within, which is a primary task for all myths.

Ln chis: letter, he wcnt on to mainntain:

"great music" agitates "to fathomless depths, the
mystery of the past within us." . An.d again,
that at thi. sound of Music, each of us feels thar.
"!the--ec answer~ within him, out of the Sea of Death
anld .rth, so:me dying inTmeasurable of ancient
pica.-,re and pain." --While I had always I o.n of

thi.- infii:ite extension: of personality, nothing
has over rlrad.- it so striking as thii application
of ]Mu:.;ic to it. . (L, 136)

kWereas Stevens h-d been concerned previously uith the

rcmanr tic notion of the "divinl force" and "responsive"

spirit in the physical world, ie no; begac. to dwell more

often on the "innuilerable responsive spirits within" (L, 32,

h4. 136).

In "'Pter C.uince at the Clavier" (89-?2), t .. same

attit,(d3s help to formn one of the earliest spiritual. thru :ts

of Stoveni:ji poetry. In that poem, he comes to s-e thiat the

capacity of the nind to respond to tle music 'of phy.-ic'l

bei-ng, :'r,.hout. t-rying t..: turn it into the ransirtic "wholly

othc;-," offer-s i minde of spiritual validation both o tirm-

iin.cd and to physical beauty.

Just as my fingers on ths'ye :eys
Make nunic. so the selfsame sounds
On mry spirit make a music, too.

Music 4.s feeling, then, n.t sound. .

Fi:'est, the imriportance of the nin-d's re,;po.'nse is affir.nd.

Then, enduring physical. beauty is seen to ba the prroer

source of Yian's celebration:

Beauty is momentary in the mind--
The fitful tracing of a portal;
But in the flesh it is i.rnortal . .
[Susanna's music] plays
On the c).a:r viol of her memory,
And makes a constant sacramient of praise.

The aind becomes the musical instrumront on which the music

of Sum1,r, s physical beauty is sacralized,

Leos: thanr a week after the previous l. better, Steverns

w',te agali;, recordnG o.a new belief in man's nobility, omn

that enabled him to begin a resolution of the problem posed

by scientific reduction.

. I have latl had a sudden conception o:- th
true nobility of men and :;.uren. It is woll ornough
to say that. they walk like chickens, or look like-
moinkeys; except when t.hey are fat and look like
hippopoar.aues. But Tthe zoolog ic-al point of view
is not a happy one; and merely .t'rcm the desire to
think .'e1ll ci' meni and women I h;.ve sudae-ily -seen
the very elementary trutlh (which I had revere. seen
before) that their nobility does not lie in ,uhat
tney look like but in wha1t. they endure and in the
manner in which they endure it.

Stevens, significantly, goes on to relate hisf now sense of

nobility to the problem cf a world of' cppcrrancco and a life

lived in the mind, a tack anticipating the extent to which

his fully developed idea of nooiLity woI.ld be ansociitad

with the imagination's capacity to provide insight- into

reality. Here, though, he simply observes:

Everybo-dy e--cent a Jhijld appreciate.m that "things
are not :whiat they seem"; and the result of dis-
illusion eight be fatal to content, if it were
not. for courage, jtood-will, and the like. lTheI
mind is uhe Arena of Life. Men and wonon must be
judged, to be judged truly, by the valor of their
spirits, by their conquest of the natural be.ng,
and by their victories in pn.ilcophby.--1 feul as
ii I had nade a long step in addvnce.

Significant, too, is the facr that i'n ihi letter,

containing Lh earliest oxpoi.tion of his idea of nobility,

Ste.'n-; fir.sr. a'rowed the centrAlity cr. the mlind -*-"Tho mind

i.s il. Arena of Lifo"---and then turned to the external world

.'ith a r-.:ne:'.; capacity for experience:

It is a di cvoe'y, too, that very greatly increases
my interest in non and women. One might say that
their appe::trancoe are like curtains, fair and
unfair; the stage is behind--the comedy, and
tragedy. The curtain had never before been so
vividly lifted, at least for me; and my rambles
through the streets h.?ve been excursions full of
amn teur :;ot thrilling penr,.tration, i respect the
cn;ickens; i revel in the monlrk:ys; I feel most
ol.itely toward the hippopot.a.uses, poor souls.
(L, 1,43-14.)

Throughout hi3 matue poetry, Stevens' meditation centers on

the r:apac.tic-s of the mind in relation o ;he curtains of

the experienced world, which come to be seen as the neces-

sarv v.ils of the mind's own fictions. Furthermore, the

mind as source of nobility will be more and more affirrnlm as

the aonly avenue into a physical world. Stcv-ens' yearning

fo:- :sacred groves begra at this point to lead to thu eniwg.a

of thec curtains themselves, and his o..-n lifelong explci:oation

of the find's necessary fiction would eventually co;ipose- a

major fiction of its own. Stevons would coie to see that

t"I-o curtain could not be lifted, since it is not in the

exterinal world but is itself man's way of sight.

Stevens' mature poetry follows the lines established

in tho-rDn last foi; quoted letter.m. Eventually. he would di.;-

cove. 'i.h.-:t the mind, by enabling itself c-o convercs wi. 1I i s

own d-eti:t, could, like: music, rememiberl "its august- abodos'"

and f.nd t hat \"hac spc. ;l in the mind's dephb arTe the

"oco.in :r..raiul. Stevens, in creating through accurate

sp'.ch 9 dia.logue w.ai. h the L-pirit within, finally caiu. to

b3.iev-. that the veil he had created was a "copy of the sun"

(527).

There are only a few; explicit indications in these

pre--miarriage records of the unique mode of Stevens' future

poetry, poetry which so often grows out of a dialogue

between Stevens' male consciousness and his interior queen

ando paramour, his ime.ginatiun. Although we have noted ea'r-.y

'3xa'riples of' his fluctuation between the dimensions of the

nir.d and the external world, the Journal entries and his

early letters to Elsie also point to the special meditative

technique that becomes his means of reshnpinr his response

to the physice.l world. In reaching the Staf-3 of his first

important poetry, two eoomenits of hiL: t:ho-ught began to

alter: he ceased to think of hi3s re-;ding as r-oman.:.ic

escape fro n. dreariness and started to seu it more as related.

to hii immediate experience: and he bga-.nr to r.hink of his

interior depth more personally as another' self; associated

both w-ith his imago of Elsie and his sense of his own Ariel

spirit. t.,

A onz, the excerpts of Stevens' letters to Elsie for

the year,3 1905-06 is this one orncerrning the interior

spirit: "Life seems glorio;?-u; .'. a while, then it seems

poiscnou.i. Bur, you must cvuc' "lose faith in i ., it, is

[,l...o-~'us after .,1. Only you must find the glory for your-

eif', Lo .not look for it either, except in yourself; i .

t-.i e. cret rp;.:tces of you~" pf.rit; and in all your hidden

:.(L'." L, ). Av. akning th.so "hidden ser.nse" gradually

)j.2

became a primary j.co;ncnen !'or Stevens, creating the grounds

for a true dialectic between r.imagination and external

roallity. Central to the dialectic was Stevens' growing

a.war'e:ness of the importance of accurate speech and of the

world of his readings (early instances of his idea of: a

civilized rmin-stream). Stevens' letter to Elsie on january

17, 1909. illlustratas his constant shifting bctwesn .interior

anr ext:ernal reality, along with his senos of the centrality

of reading and cl3ar expression. Ho beg&n by describing two

recent, exhilarating experiences in the park, leading to the

fol lo,;in g:

The s.now w.as just cormoncing to far.11 blowing frorn
tho I'orth, the direction in uwich I -wan go:.ng, Eo
that my checks were, shortly, coacod with ice--or
so tlhey cJo].'. --It would be very apre..'able co me
to .pend a non:-h in the woods getting myself
trim. There is as much delight in the body
as in anythinS in the world and it leaps 'nr use,

Then he turns abruptly to the .subject of his recent reading:

It waR balm to mie to read and to read quickly. 1
havo such difricul.ty with Maoterlinck. He dic-
trac.st by his rhetoric. Indeed, philosophy, wh'icr.
ought to be pure intellect, has seldom, if over.,
been so aniong moderns. We color our language, .and
Truth being white, becomes blotched in trans-
mi s ;L .Ln,

F'rom tils e:Sxpression of the importance of pure speech. ho

goes on to discuss Poe, thq mind, and stagnaitiug routine:

i!owaday3. r,.hen so many people no lon.:er believe ir..
; :,-..'- .a t'.:!.3. thin s, th:y find a sub I i]tute in t!h
st. e..r.er and more freakish -phenomena of the mind--
)'.-:1..ucinatl.ons, mysteries and th; l.ike. Hence thb.
r..-:ival of Foc . Poo illustrates, too, the
eff'cct of stimulus,. ,-oen i complain of the "bare-
n,-:.s"--I have in mind, very often, the effect of
orlce' and regularity, r.he effect of moving in a
,rocve. We all cry for life. It is not to to

f.'.;und in j.hai lroading to an: offi ce and. th'L n .'ai.l-
:.oad.l:ig back . But t i.s cbvi.tous.ly more
ez--.i '"IG to be Poe than to be a lesser ;'!es-.ire.
Y'ou see the effect of the railrosadini~ in my
letters: the reflection of so many .Ills the
c'ffct of moving in a groove,

'ITh subjoe:t of unhealthy regularity le--ad.s directly to tne

importance of' book:j and of his o-wn in teriuor spirit--both of

which are seen to revitalize experience:

But books marr-e up. They shatter the gr'oove. as
far as the mind is conce-ned. They are .like s-
many fantastic lights filling plain dn-kne.sr s .-withi
s tran. e color. . I like to w.ite m3-L irhen
the young Ariel sits, as you nmowi how, at. the head
of my pen and whispers to me--many things; for i
like his fancies, and his occasional music.

Immediately following this reference to his Ariel ;piri;:-

Stcven:: broaches a central problem o. his major poetry:

"One's l-st concern on a Ja.usL.ry niJ. :.b i: the real world,

onen that happens to oe a limited one--unless, of course, it

is a;s beautiful and as brilliant as the Park was this. after-

noon" (L, 122-23). In the future. his poetry w;as to be nis

w'.y of relating the real world to his book world and his

Ariol spirit, so that the real world would no longer be .a

liiaiteo one but lit by the ligh& of minagination:

"Ar''ranging, deepening, enchanting night" ( 30),

A few months later, Steven,- followed the same

pattcrno in another lIetuer to Elsie. Aftor dt~scriirinG vivid

exper'ienes of the exter.al world--an: art shoi., a ch;u.zrch,

c.ocids--he concluded: "I wish I could -pend the wl;o.e

season out of doors, walking by day, reading and studying in

the evc:nings. I fee). a tremendous c zpacity for snjoy.i ng

th-It .kind of life . ." rThen juo.it a he bogina to corn-

piijr. i.-, ',: ..'-in "compoll.d i-rtc the oomioni lot," he

So many lives have been lived--tha world is no
.on.ger dui.1--nor would not be .ven if nothing new
at a.lle over happened, It would be enoi'lih to
exgjrfinie the record alr:edy made, by so rany
races0 .in such varied spaces. --Forhaps, it is
best, too, that one should have only gliirmpses ;of
reality--and get the rset from che fairy-tal6s,
from picture;, and music, and books. --;:.y chief
objection to tow-n-life is the ccrrTmornness of the
life. Suc;h numbers of lon degrade M1am. The
teeming streets malre IMan a nuisance--a vulgarity,
and it is impossible to see hi. dignity. I
feel, nevc-rtheless, the overwhelming necessity
of thinking well, speaking well.

More nnd more, man's artistic creation cime to be .-:cn by

Stevens as the link botueen the mental world and the

cxterc:.l one, and nmn's art became associated with "think-

in., wc.Ll, speaking well' (L, 141 )

L-svc..v-, envisioning of an interior paramour to

;er-.pond to his Ariel spirii- w-as the final ) tep leading to

his fir :-S important potz, Stevens: need to e:;per.iencve a

sacred externl:-. world as.3 just one side of his primary

problem. The other side was his need for co.nmrun ion with his

o-.-i in:erior depthl. bei- gradual incarnation oi' hirs ;ijo:i9l

spiJ' ;t enabled lim to eat-:';ljsl a dialogue betw'ee, in.nt.rior

self and ph. .-.i cal worL.d, No traditional. icuse nard no

Beltrl c**.. sh:e ncn, :etlo,.P;:s b-.:cane the objeciaticatin or

S e'..0:1' own aspiring -love, 'a kind of sister of th, e .inro-

tr" (1, 2). It is she w-homn Stevens would attciiot to out

intc spiritual relationallir. irith earth, so that e9:perincc

of earth at last would require neither resignation to a luiW;

o- mn.atter nor romantic escape from the mud of Br.'--V.i.,

On th. no.st inLnediato level, Stevens' wo.r;an figure

.'s simply exalted good company on his solitary quest..

.Stvevne' first portrait of hi.s spiritual love is both

rom-r.ti c I!nd touching. From his journal, April 2', 1906:

C(leaS sy. The twilight subtly redisoval--p;e-
Cop-nican. A few nights ago I saw tl.-. ?'ir of
th1 .moon, and the whole blact: moon behind, jusr.
viasiblee, The larger stars oere lJike flares, One
jculd have -.ikecd to wrilk about irith some u,,eec
di:-s',ossjng ':;nYv and caverns, like a noble warrior
spoei;ing of trifles to a noble lady. Thu imaRi-
nat.o.en. is quite satisfied with definite objects,
if' th,:y be lofty and beautiful enough. Xt i.
chiefly n dingy attics that onn d'rearis of violet
citiev.:--and so on. So if T had had itn.at noble
ledy, I should have been content.. 'The abssnc, of
he.r "rado the stealthy chc.dc;::z dingy, atticy--
i ncomp or.c. (L, 91 )

S!;evren' wov.:an figure was to remain throuoghout much of his

poetry assc.iaced with the night, the moon, and stars

(Es .ec;ally Venus).

His lette.er to Elsie indicate that she herself was

the next ilinage associated by him with his imagination. On

January 12, 1909, he opened hi: letter to her:

To-night yo.u rulls1 come to no serious purpose--
coi,, a;s Lc-Pcup.--(I do not say it; boldly. )
--limangino my page to be as uiite as the wh,;te
shoet they use ';cr magic-lantern :Thow:--and sud-
-A.v;.y cee your chringeful self appear thorn in
those rjbb-.ns and flowers of tho darGsel that lodt
h.r c.hecr,. I point and say (not at all faml-
irl :y- )-.-''ia chore Bo l" And you vani sh. --B ut
it really isn't so frightful whsn say i.t again.
'.n;. perhaps you would not always vanish. (L, 118)

The ,anner ir. w.Jhich ho sun-c,ons her presence before him, even

bhere in a comic vein, anticipates the way in which the I:c-ma-.i

figur-e is addressed in many of his poems, 'n fact, a : ,.. :'

',f Stevens' first (post-Harvard) published poems were

written for r.l~ic.' But, as we will sue, already in

Hai.ronium. the woman presence in a pervasive one and \uas not

to b- confined in. a single fi.ur.e.

SStvens; ,:;ot'e two groups of ;oecm. for E1sic, each
of which ho c.ollec ted in the years 1908 and 1,909 uridar the-
title "June Book,"' SiVx of these poer.s apup!)Ueed in Trend in
19'-14. Ser- buttel, pp. 4!8-49, L9n.

you will everr [;ro; old, will you. . You must
always have pinki cheeks and golden hair. To be
youn.y i~ all there is in the world, The rest is
noijsense---and cant. . Let us wear bells
together aind never grow up. . W ill that stop
Time and Iatlur?--Lct us trap Natr'e, this cruel
mother. .. (L, 97, 100)

Although in section ix Stevens urges his imari-

nat:on--his "ward of Cupido," his "venerable heart'"--to

"celebrate / T.;ec falth of forty," all but the Most general

idea of what'. that faith is remains unclear at t'-is point,

especially in view of the mordant recogiiirtcnZ of the pre.-

vioas sectionS. The contours of the faith will only slowly

be fi'lld in fr-.o here on by the cel ebration of Steviens

poetry. Tnc ri.to and the faith are interi6ependent. 1-ow in

a. jovivl manrc,'. the pcct seelk "verses wild with r.oioo:-." to

reflect the war of life, "music anid manner of the paladins /

To make- oblation fit." He asks: "Where :a:l'. I find /

Bravurc. a.tequat.c to this gr.at hymni?' The context is

dandy.sh, but the search for the right "Bravura" is essen-

lia.lly sericus- and central uo Stevens' poetic qucst.

Section x introduces one of Stevena~ most pervasive

mythic images: the tree, partic-.laily the giant pine troc,

A stately point of reference irn Stevens' mytliopoeic geog-

r-phy, the tre: serves to focus his sense of the procreistive

earth; for i'hlle be'ng a part of the gri:en, cyclic pattern

the tree also rises above it, a natural abstractin!i.

.tc'c-ren' tree :stands gigantic" and contr-asts s;,'arply w;i rh

t.: "magic trecl" and 1'bsal.ry boughs" of the "fops of fancy,"

Such trees as thcse latteEr are usually vi-ualized. by the

poet as palm trees (cf. "cloi.dy palm," 68). ]Noi, nob]e anr.

not phallic, they appear to be associated in his mind with

the mystical side of thLs Bible (one th.iuks of the "mule.3

that angel.s ride" and Jesus' paim-stre.wn entry into Jeru-

sal!:m.). In this section of course, .he "balmy bought" uith

their "s:i.lv:r.v-riuddy, gold-vorniiillion fruit" more broadly

connote a goneraliLd sense of the r:olrma-itic. Stevens wants

it. clear that his "yeomanr" symbol has nothing of the

mysti.cl.L. about i.t. It is simp-ly tlo enduring, procreative

earth itself focused inr.o the phallic tip "To which al-

birds cone sometime in thei:.,r .tiue," Just as the "red. bird"

of section '.i seeks his choJ.i in the 'irind and wet and

w;ing," so the birds here are tLoCally i;..~hinr ths ::cherme of

nature--urlike the poet, who in the following section makes

it clear that msu often rct. "without regard / To that

first, 'c.:.omo:;t .la.." But. while Stcvens is able to illus-

trate that sex is not all, he at the same time 'places hir,-

feef in the "Anauishing" position of having separated

hi;i.eif once again f.ro:' the processes of earth, the

processes toward whici: his po'm h.ic. been moving to validate

spir-i tual].y. He find'. hiraself hoeRe irn the ssme position aC.

in section ii, sepcr'ated ifrro m the choir of birds and .witrh--

out a r',oi'r o'f ohis o-L:I except his mc:.,or of his earlier

romantic sel f-- !.:. ".ad: C. L'bbtlo" before the apple was

tu.:.to.d. The lat panrtI of se -Lion ;:i ij. ..ustrates -the

div.isic. between the iroiafntlic "pool of pink:" and ".odious

chords" of the f';rog. The imagination: continues to deo;;:re

its "heavenly, orchard air"--hore its pool of liliec--but

"Last- ni`ht" is pact and the imaginationn can no longer

escape the sound of T"he booming frog (slimily real, sexual,

and dying).

"Le :lonc-cle" conclud,::z on a positive note, pre.-

figured by the, descent cf th' mules and by tre gigantic

tree. Stevens' pigeone ave ;i.pt symbols of modernn spirit

imaginationn), ordinary birds of man's cities, replacing the

dove, The traditiional syr.bol of the Holy Spirit.

A blue pigeon it i.s, thit circles the blue sky,
On sidelong win., around and r-unld and round.
A wl-ite pigeon iT is., that flutters to the ground,
Gromrn tired of flight.

Of :'.l1 elements in the mr-de-rn tradition, perhaps
L:h&.c of priirjit.lve art, of whatever age or con-
tinulLt, h:is nhad the nost pervasive influence The
priit:L.veO, with its imirTdiatLe connejx.ion Jwil.h
magie., expresses a dir.ectness o.0 irvngin r.ive
impact wnich is naive and yet conven'ionalized,
sponit-.neous nmid yet. l.prcise, It irmdicat3s Iost.
clearly the way in which & long and tired tradi-
tion. o1" Woicternr art, wliich hlas been refininrl and
sop'.hi?'tating i;.t elf for centuries, can be
revived, or even ruborn. Peri-.'aps the ]hinsnip
beI~t...ci, the primitive and ourselves goLE, even
d1epr. it hj.. frc-qunitly- been remark, d th.it w;e

69

,nay bc, if e :.urvivc, the prit itivec of a': uv.nLnci:n
culture, the cave m.jn of a new mental er:a.1

If froni the earth we came, it was r-n enr.rh
That bore us as a part of all the ;b:i.n:
it breeds and that wus lewder th:.j. i, i.j.
Our nature is her nature. Hence it con:.-s,
Since by our nature we grow old, earth groa'
The sure. '.ie parallel Lhe mother's Qec.tl.

world of ph'ys :cal death ct.onfron .in" a mind \,';..ch r,.u::i- v ai

r-olithin (or e:.pa:rienc.; '0i.c-;e ry in th,- SOL-id c f .hn

'.i. .It uould b.1 too pat to see thcis poe:m sL-,ply as

the o..p;-.::- ioi1 of .1 1.iind wi..hcut a su-aI ilin: f::yth; th:eo

cxt, na-l w.or.d o the poem is m, I,'O than. ju Ir'o'.fln'?.- -i. *

a world agai.ust life, one of frozen inactivity rerainiscent

of D;an'Uls version of Cocytus in which m.an remains frozen

within bhimse lf0

So thJc troes of lift in ~2.ar:r.onium :r-Qpro:en:!; n:on-life

(not just cyclic change) as :ae?. as physical regeneration.

.jAd in. these last two poems, 1ihe trees o':.rint clearly to this

point as spiritually the dark,,stf mno:.-3nt of Stevcns' poetry,

The ari-th's barj'.-enness i affirmi,-:1 without i.he Caving God-

im:agination of man; the mind's barrenness is affirmed with-

out thz saving heaven-para.dise of earth.

Another mythic tree image that appep.rs in H{armion.iu

an'3 ri-curs ini later poet.';r is Stovens' curious willow image,

The earth mother of "Sunday Horning" "makes the willow

shiv.-r in the s.Ru-" so that the maidens and ti.e bcys will

p-.oc6atO.. }H3:re 1-he willow is phallic and alive. in motion,

one of Stevens' trees of life. But in his w;ind S3t;vcns also

aFsociate'..fr the willow mrrage w!-. -th a church zt:.p2?, '.hicl is

m;crtio.j .ol.., and stands against the idea of physical procrea-

t-io.i The cock of morning and of life in fSteve-ns' lato

"Credencie of Suzrmner" flies to a bean pole and, :loo'-ing

across the I;sedy garden c a. former" "comnple. of' emon.ons,"

watches the "willow, motionless. / The gardc:ner's cat iJ.

dead, the gardener uone" (377). Here the li lou is used

negatively to ind.i.atc a past pr-i:cipl.e of being, no.: dead,

and contrasing sharply with the ijillou of sexual e'--rgy in

'Sund-ay lrc.ming. This latter im.ace of thwe illow provides

an e::collent example of one uwy in which S''ti.;ns: :mnthic

s:.rrbolimi i develops: throi.gh a princj.ple of coaloescenco;

her-; of w:i llo anud stoople. In a fairy tale S3even3 sent

to i..13ie, A:.r:... : 3, 1909, he ha d written:

A good yr..:-.y years ago, long before Mlbr-ouck wOent
to bec,'im a soldier, and yet not no iong ago as
the deys of Hesiod (inL fact, it is a little
uncertain when) twc pigeons sat on the roof of a
barn and looked about them at the yellow corn-
fields and r.he cows in the meadow and the church-
spire- over the hill and did nothing at. aLl. but
MIiurTmIr "C" oo-coo-Co," "Coo-coo-coo" "Coo-coo-cc.o,

T::i" il]~-l-.tration also points to u inclip;i'-jnt myrhic pat-

ic,-r. ("days of Hesiod") focused outside of time ("it is ,

l1ti.lo uncexrtai:n when") which Stevens turns to again

t* ';ouhouu his mature, ,ork and especially i-. the v.' .o-...s

of some of hi. lator poetry, such as in this eoiso-.o

in-:;.. .;i: g the cock.

Coun i. ;O"i balancingng the p:in-t,:rs--ll ;-- ir:iaery csor-

ciatsa with t)ie physical world is the palr---tre.e-like imagery

associated by Stevens with the mind's fictions. In Stevens'

mythic landscapes, the palm tree takes its place among the

image.:.- of overabundance of the South--where there is little

seascona change. Romanticizing the exotic, Crispin rakes

"the i-ost of savagery of palms" (31). But the palm has not

the phallic sharpness of the pine, and so can easily become

that "cloudy palm / Remote on heaven's hill" (68). Not only

related to the South and to the Bible, the palm has yet

another. romantic connotation: the traditional palm of

victory. The following use of the image involves all of

13
13 In this same poem the images of pine and tower
alno coaleaci'. See 373.

these conn-t.atio-,s sand more when the '"ora. law" ini "A

High-Toned Old Chr.istian '.Woman" (9) is projected into

"haunted heaven-,," "r.he conscienco is converted into pab.s, /

Likeo i.ndy c.itberns hankering for hymns. Expressing both

.ho poetic and religious (c.f. "palmer") romantic, the .palm

remains still a tree, too, through which the wind makes

weird, un::arThly sounds. In later poetry this palm iGree

images also iprovidos a gloss for Stevens' palm.: of' uhe hand

images (c.. 225).

Bird imagery in Harmonium is, first and most gen-

erally, imagery ci natural life, oftoe procreating in the

pines (Cof 17), In the tropics, ho-wver, birds too share in

the overabundance: "hawk and falcon, greb., toucran /l And

joy . raspberry tsnagirs in palms" (30)-- mbolizing a

physicaL world d that is too oxoti- to be the proper "scil

[of] nmn's. intelligence" (36). On the other hand, specific

kinds c'f birds begin to assuram specialized purposes in this

poetry, sometimes simply pointing to;.wrd the realm of

abstract ideas, but often serving to unite Stevens' irm-n:-

diate sc-nse of a presential world with abstraction. For

ins'.:ance, the 3sw-ans of' "Invecliv' against ~ ,;W.ns; (4) simply

represent a romaniticized attitude toward nature and life,

ass3;ociated respectively .ulth the park aCid the -statuos. The

soul can no longer fly in the- swan's chairo'ts vhon the

"crows onc-int the statues wit-h. their dirt." Unlike s"ans,

however, birds such as croi.s, gre.ckles aid blackbirds are

all oart of a world fallen from the rcmanxtic.--th6 world

ht.cLr-e leftover egg shell: sully natur,';r temple (of. L, 62).

"Tliirzten Ways of Looking at a Blackbird" (92-95) is an

instance of Stevens' use of a symbol with mythic properties

LO ex:,plore rnd express this fallcn world, which his poetry

i.. a '.:hole is continually in the act of discovering and

crc.atLir:. The poem opens:

Among twenty snowy mountains,
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the blackbird.